placing of the tiles

Dawn set the sky ablaze as a riot of colour played upon the clouds. A cool breeze stirred the leaves of the tall birch trees lining the avenue. No sound could be heard except the hurried footsteps of a rotund figure, furtively scurrying along, constantly looking behind as if he was being followed. Yet all that filled the street behind him was the sound of his own passing.

The tree lined avenue soon gave way to a great plaza, paved with giant slabs of veined white marble. All around the plaza stood statues of men, each attired in a different outfit, yet all with the distinct aura of authority. The Plaza of Kings was the burial site for the monarchs of Streza, each statue a tomb containing the cremated remains of each ruler.

The rotund man stands at the edge of the plaza as if fearful to walk into the plaza. His destination was directly across the plaza, at the foot of the first and most ancient statue. He slowly edge into the plaza, waiting after every few feet as if a bolt from the heavens were to incinerate him for this sacrilege. Nothing happens, scraping up the dredges of his courage the man stumbles quickly across the smooth marble. At the foot of the statue he removes the wooden tiles he was given. Staring at the paintings on the tiles he remembers the precise instructions.

Place the tiles face up in concentric circles at the foot of the ancient one, the three tiles at the convergence of the circles must be the construct, the henge and the burning sky. Place the rest as you please, if you fail to do this task end your life for I will not be as merciful.


He tries to quite the shaking of his hands as he builds the patterns as instructed. As the final tile is placed in position, he hears a high pitched giggle echo through the plaza. Startled the man leaped to his feet, staring around wildly trying to find the source of the giggle.

Cold-laced pain flairs in his mind, as his personality is torn asunder by the invader. Blood flows from every orifice as the man’s soul is torn from his dying body. The corpse falls to a heap at the foot of the statue, its final breath wheezes’ from the cold dead lips across the scattered pattern. As the sunlight burst onto the plaza three tiles burst into red flame, bathing the early morning plaza in the eerie sound of giggles.